And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.
An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.
Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
Frailty, thy name is woman!
O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!